CRASHAW, sternly ignoring the insinuation: "Ask him if there's
any means of calling the janitor."
MILLER: "Could you call the janitor?"
THE ELEVATOR BOY, ironically: "Well, there ain't any telephone
attachment."
MILLER, solemnly: "No, he says there isn't."
MRS. CRASHAW, sinking back on the seat with resignation: "Well, I
don't know what my niece will say."
MISS LAWTON: "Poor papa!"
YOUNG MR. BEMIS, gathering one of her wandering hands into his:
"Don't be frightened. I'm sure there's no danger."
THE ELEVATOR BOY, indignantly: "Why, she can't drop. The cogs in
the runs won't let her!"
ALL: "Oh!"
MILLER, with a sigh of relief: "I knew there must be something of
the kind. Well, I wish my wife had her fan."
MRS. CURWEN: "And if I had my left glove I should be perfectly
happy. Not that I know what the cogs in the runs are!"
MRS. CRASHAW: "Then we're merely caught here?"
MILLER: "That's all."
MRS. CURWEN: "It's quite enough for the purpose. Couldn't you put
on a life-preserver, Mr. Miller, and go ashore and get help from the
natives?"
MISS LAWTON, putting her handkerchief to her eyes: "Oh, dear!"
MRS. CRASHAW, putting her arm around her: "Don't be frightened, my
child.
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